Page 22 of Underground Prince

I scanned the bar, constructed in a railroad style, with patrons squished within the rectangular room. I think I spotted a pool table in the back.

“You’re not drinking your beer,” he said, this time from a much more bearable distance.

I spun the drink, its condensation coating my fingers. A small smile escaped before I said, “I don’t do bottles,” and signaled to the bartender.

He came right over, a shock of black hair scraped back from his face and an even larger shock of cologne.

“Same thing, but draft please,” I said.

He glanced once at Theo before pouring. I swung around to Theo, smug.

“Well,” was all he said.

Theo’s back was against the wall. His leg, unfortunately, was pressing against mine, and I felt that contact as if he were already on top of me.

I swiped the beer from the bartender’s hand before he had a chance to set it down. “How about some pool?”

With my jerky, amateur movements, some of my beer sloshed against the rim and splashed onto my hand. I licked off the excess, intending to head to the back, but Theo stopped me.

Not with his hand, nor with any movement. He didn’t even stand.

His eyes caught fire.

They flared once, as the tip of my tongue touched the tender skin between my thumb and index finger. But it was a match, igniting. And when I captured the liquid and dragged it into my mouth, stoked desire possessed him.

He kept me still with nothing but a patient, sinner’s stare. I could see what he wanted to do to me, and I found myself naked in his imagination, standing in front of him, wanting his study, for him to memorize my curves, my angles, my pleasures…

Hell. No.

I took a long pull of my beer, at least half, thinking it would reduce the swell in my throat.

“I do,” he said, and I had to force myself to remember my original question. Pool. Billiards. Whatever. Playing it.

“But not as well as poker?” My voice was rough, bordering on tearing, but either he didn’t notice or he knew exactly what he was doing, because he stood up and avoided all physical contact with me.

“You know so little about me, Scarlet,” he responded in his calm, smooth voice. Hearing it was not unlike the sensation of dragging silk through my fingers.

Damn him. Theo didn’t have to touch me to arouse me. I might as well be a viper undulating to his flute.

Except, who was the real snake and who was the true charmer in this scenario?

Run, my feeble conscience whispered. Run like hell.

I followed him deeper into the bar.

9

FIRECRACKER

I, Scarlet Rhodes, the girl who knows zilch about Theo “I’m full of secrets” Saxon, beat him to a loser pulp at pool.

After three rounds where I dominated his world, we were huddled at the bar, and I was stunned to realize it was one in the morning.

“So,” I said after the bartender topped off my third beer. “Why did you bring me here?”

He shrugged, though for him that was more of a teensy spasm of one shoulder. “It’s a nice place.”

I studied him over the rim of my glass. “One of these days I will get you to say more than four words.”

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